Interesting.  Do you mind if I ask where Hathcyn's going with this?  Is this a good-faith attempt to have everyone else disqualified?

  going to have a Odysseus moment here, bear with me.

"Artamund, again I rise to speak. Pray all here excuse me for I do not know your ways as well as a native woodman does and many years have passed since last there was a need for this council. The Law-giver says 'from among their warriors'. Was not Ingomer first warlord and then came to be chief of Woodman-hall through wisdom and age?

 By your words must not the elders nominate among their warriors as Amaleoda has done?

We could perhaps overlook the fact that a chieftain has nominated themselves, but does not the position of chieftain of a folk invalidate a claim to war-chief? True Ingomer was both, but he was unique among men and perhaps the council was not so accurate in his day so as to keep to the traditions of the people. Was it not wisdom of the before-comers that established that the war-chief not be swayed by the needs of just one settlement, that which they also governed?

By your rendering of the law however the only real candidate that has been put forward is The Firewatcher of the Black Tarn. These times are full of troubles and the War-chief is unlikely to be idle and I may have misheard the law. Would it not be better and best for the Woodmen that the war-chief not have responsibility over one settlement, but to keep all the Wood-men in mind?

Let the deliberations be clear and ancient customs adhered to from the ouset to avoid confusion later."

The one he turns to, a young woman with her hair braided in the fashion of the shieldmaidens of the wood, regards the Foresthelm with something approaching scorn.  "Why, nobody!  Have you not heard?  We are a folk without kings, and even in the least of our halls every toothless crone and misty-eyed greybeard demands their say.  Had they the sense to simply choose Mogdred, we would have a king at last and all this faffery would be done away with!" 

Surely not every last crone and greybeard, is it? the Longspear thinks to himself as he looks around the assembly in the hall.  I count here seven and thirty grey-hairs in places of honour.  These, surely are those whose hearts we must court.


Tom has figured out one of the things you'll be able to do as you go: with an extended Insight task (requiring three successes) you'll get a feel for the current spread of opinion among the Woodmen's wrinkly-faced electors.  You'll be able to make a roll every couple of hours (so, one roll tonight and another after a few hours of observing the doom-ring proceedings tomorrow). 

"The Tarn and the Warchief!" Cried the Foresthelm.

The mind of the Longspear churned over what Artamund had said. Was there an advantage buried somewhere in their, he thought maybe there was.

He looked around the gathering and leaned in to one of the woodmen near him and said,

"Who speaks for Woodman-hall in this council, who is their elder now that Ingomer has gone?"

Hathcyn's question meets a swift response from Artamud.  "A wise request indeed.  Hear then the law of the folk!"  He spreads his hands wide above his head and leaves them there as he recites the ancient ways of the Woodmen: "The elders of each clan shall choose from among the warriors one to set above the rest, and to lead the fyrd into battle.  This choosing is for the term of their life, and into their hands shall be set the power to bid others follow them to victory or to death.  For this reason, no clan, nor kindred, nor man must be set against them and they shall be chosen by the whole of the council, every voice as one, or not at all." 

As soon as he takes his seat once again, Esgalwen is on her feet, her fair face golden in the firelight, her hair agleam as she rehearses the deeds of the Fire-watcher.  At first, her subject squirms on his bench, eyes tight-shut and face averted.  But as if carried by the scent of wood long nourished on the waters of his homeland, or the sounds of familiar tongues, the long-ago words of Bandobras come to him across the years: One day, you will be a leader among your people. I can see that.  You may have to join the shield wall on occasion, but your greatness will be in your words and in your council.  Until then, rely on the fellowship of your friends.

"Yes!" comes the scratchy-voiced cry of Hartfast amid a growing number of others as he comes back from his own memory.  "Let him speak!" 

Before they can begin to chant his name, Arbogast rises, his face showing clearly a new resolve.  "Friends and kinfolk," he begins, perhaps too softly, "I am Arbogast, son of Arbodag, whom Men name for the Fire-watcher.  I..."

His eyes widen as he searches for the right words.  "All that my friend, herself a heroine famed in tales told from here to the Lonely Mountain and back, says is true.  I have sought no great name, nor rich fortune, but only to protect those who I could, and to avenge those who I could not." 

Warming at last to his speech, he meets the eyes of the others who have stood and made their claims.  "The Lady Ætheldreám speaks of the price paid to reach this day.  I say to you, kinfolk of Balthi, there may yet come a day when all of us are called upon to pay a price.  A geld beyond reckoning for our kin, for the glory of our halls and for the life we have desired to live.  Know this: that should that day come it shall not find me wanting.  Whatever price is due, I shall pay, and I shall do so with my voice raised in song." 

Arbogast's voice rises above a growing chorus of murmurings.  "On that day, I shall sing of the Woodmen!  I shall sing of the courage of those who, alone of all Men, have dared to dwell within Mirkwood and to make of it their home and sanctuary!  I shall sing of the fortitude of those who, with little but stout shields and the strength of their hearts, have withstood the fangs of wolf and spider, and the swords of orcs and wicked Men!  I shall sing of the light of the Lamp, and the glorious tales of those who brought it forth from darkness, and who keep it to this day!"


Okay, thanks guys.  My moment of grandstanding is now over.   

Not a bad roll!  I'm happy for you to tag her Fair trait for a second AP () because, as the music industry saying goes, sometimes it's not about what you say, it's about how you look saying it.   

Quote from: Telcontar on May 03, 2024, 06:05 AM Question, has anyone actually told Hathcyn that Arbogast was in the running?

Unless you have a reason not to want him to know that, I'm happy to assume that a discussion took place between the characters not unlike the one we had out of character. 

Esgalwen stood when Amaleoda's question went unanswered, knowing the intent of the thane of Black Tarn.

"Aye, there is one more that will stand... as he has always stood... between you and the enemy. Always has he kept the best interest of the people of the vale at heart. And not just his people - family and clansmen - but all of the clans, as well as those that do not call themselves a woodman!"

The tenor of her voice climbed, as did the passion in her heart, "Always has he sought peace for the vale, but never feared to take up arms in its defense. He has stood against man. Orc. Spider. And the dead.

"I was there with him when the Toft-men tried to sack Stánford, and they were repelled! I was beside him, in the darkness of the crypt, when the dead tried to wrest control of one here who makes claim. I was beside him when the great beast of Mirkwood was slain." A murmur filled the room at the mention of the terrible creature that had once haunted the lands. "And I was there when he helped save the spirits of the Black Tarn by confronting the Parliament of Spiders. Through all this he had to fight for his home, his family, and his kin - and he suffers the loss of his own child.

"Through it all, he never did it for gain!" Esgalwen's eyes fell on Ceawin. "He never did it for power," and she found Mogdred's eyes. "He did it for love of his home and the people that reside here, with the simplest of goals - to build a home, take a wife, and raise a family. Not unlike most of you in this room!"

The Ranger stood quiet for a moment, noticing the room was now hushed. She had their attention. She let her chin fall and her voice softened. "I do not speak for him as might a herald. It is his voice you need hear, but he does not hesitate to speak out of fear... that has never been his way. If there could be any reason that I could give, it would be humility." Esgalwen met Arbogast's eyes. "Humility... for my friend Arbogast, even now, questions has he done enough?

"Has he given enough of himself? Has he paid the price? The price needed to gain the wisdom to be the best to lead you. And I say he has! You will all be foolish to not hear his words."

The Lady of Gondor returned to where she sat. She looked at Arbogast and gave him a confident nod, then cried out to the chamber, "Will you not hear him?!"

I love everything about this.